


13 Is the Lucky Charm

by MidnightMonster



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Clones, Evil Mary, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt John, Hurt Sherlock, John Dies, Johnlock - Freeform, Kidnapped Sherlock, Love, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Reichenbach Falls, Second Chances, Sherlock dies, Sherlocks trying to fix things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 08:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9812159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightMonster/pseuds/MidnightMonster
Summary: Sherlock is kidnapped by several other Sherlock Holmeses who want to help him. Can Sherlock learn from their mistakes and be happy?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have seen a prompt some time ago that the carachter looks to their right and see a van packed with themselves. One of his clones throws a gun at them and says: Qiuck, there is no time to explain.
> 
> And this happened.

Sherlock hated it when Lestrade called him in for easy cases. But he hated the empty flat more when John was working at the clinic.

That was the only reason he decided to visit the crime scene. Hoping that maybe it would turn into something unexpected and take his mind off of his fairly new discovery about his emotions toward his flat mate.

But ten minutes at the scene and he was ready to leave. It was frustrating. He hadn't had a decent case since Baskerville. 

He decided to walk back home instead of taking a cab. Less time spent in a John-less flat.

It was darkening already and Sherlock calculated that he would have to spend two hours without John in the flat if he kept up with his pace.

However as he was passing an alleyway suddenly he was grabbed by his beloved coat and pulled in.

"Oh, for the-" He started to talk in a bored tone as he was pushed up against the wall.

But his words were cut off by a cloth covering his mouth and nose. Though if there hadn't been any cloth he would have probably stopped talking due to shock. Because the last thing he saw were his captors.

There were three of them.

And they looked exactly like him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of torture and death. Nothing explicit but I am paranoid.  
> Any way enjoy.

The first thing which returned was his hearing. 

"He is probably started hearing by now." Said a deep voice which sounded weird to Sherlock's ears.

There was a snort after that and a bitter voice. "Of course, you would know."

But the voice wasn't right. It sounded like the same person was talking, only in a different tone.

"Well at least from my experiments we know something."

"And thanks to your little experimenting you died."

"What should I have done? Stop using and end up like you?"

"You left him behind!"

"You failed him!"

"Enough!" A third one shouted and his voice echoed faintly.

After that there was a disturbing quiet. Sherlock tried to open his eyes to see what was going on but he couldn't. However he could feel now that he was in a bed which was strange. Most of the times when he was kidnapped he was usually cuffed  to a chair. This time he wasn't even tied in any way.

He remembered being pulled into the alley and seeing three faces. The strange thing was that he remembered seeing his own face looking back at him instead of his captors faces. Whatever was on that cloth must have been something that acted quickly.

Minutes passed until finally he was able to open his eyes. He blinked a few times and was greeted by a ceiling. It was cracked a little bit and there was an odd looking brown patch too. 

He noticed that there was still no sound so he slowly sat against the wall and took in his surroundings.  
Apart from the bed there were only four chairs in the room and all were occupied by his captors.

Who were wearing masks. They were all built similarly and Sherlock felt something tug on the back of his mind but he ignored it.

"W-who are you?" He coughed and his mouth was dry. One of the man looked at the floor next to Sherlock's bed. There Sherlock saw a glass of water. Without thinking much of it -if they wanted to harm him by poisoning him they would have done it while he was still out- he downed the whole glass. It was refreshing. 

After that he focused on them again. He hadn't received an answer.

He had started a staring contest with the one who seemed to be the leader. Several minutes later he was rewarded with a sigh.

"Try not to overload, would you?"

Sherlock scoffed. "Why would I-" He abruptly stopped talking as the men revealed their faces or face because all of them were the same. Including Sherlock's.

They were all like him but slightly different. One of them for example looked older and like a junkie. An other one looked thinner than him and his hair was shoulders length and unkempt, he also had trouble breathing. The third one looked like him just a few years older, though he was having trouble with breathing too. The last one looked like him just more tired and broken. Far more broken. But there was determination in his eyes.

As soon as everything registered Sherlock let out the air he had been holding unconsciously in a big whoosh. He tried to listen to the advice and not to overthink everything. He closed his eyes and he leaned back, his head bumping softly agianst the wall, trying not to get into overload by the sheer impossibility of the situation.

"He is taking it far better than us." One of them whispered and Sherlock opened his eyes to see the others shooting him a glare.

"Maybe because he still has a chance." One of them said as he shut his eyes again.

He wasn't sure how much time passed when he reopened his eyes. He cleared his throat to regain some short of control.

"Explain." He said shortly.

They glanced at each other than the tired looking one stepped ahead. 

"We are all you from different dimensions. Most of our world is simillar to yours but with a different ending and outcomes. You have already passed several... checkpoints and-"

"What are these checkpoints?" He interrupted.

The tired one grimaced at the interruption, but otherwise answered.

"Those are the points where some of us messed it up."

"Like how?" Sherlock asked tentatively, seeing the dark expression on their faces.

The tired one looked away, his fist clenching and his eyes shut tightly. He let out a shaky breath and without another word left the room. The door slamming loudly shut behind him.

Sherlock looked back at the others more curious than before. What could have happened that upset him so badly. 

The third one took a wary breath and spoke up.

"You messed up your chance that John and you become a couple, because he died of your mistakes or you died or both of you."

"No." Sherlock whispered quietly. No. No. NO. John Watson wasn't allowed to die. Not now. Not ever. "H-how?"

His clone or whatever sighed warily and unbuttoned his shirt. Revealing his pale chest but with a gun shot wound in the middel of it.

"What happened?" He asked weakly.

"Mary Morstan."

"Who?"

"John's assassin wife."

"John's what?!" Sherlock shouted in disbelief. He knew that John dated but that he would actually marry one of the dull girls was... was unacceptable. Though this woman it seemed had killed him. Neatly shot in the chest. Not hitting anything major so the dying was stretched painfully. And that woman was left with John. John was definitely in danger with that woman next to him. How could he have died on John? He needed him!

"He was killed too." Whispered his other self quietly. Sherlock wasn't even suprised that he knew where his thoughts had wandered. He did it enough time with other people.

"John.. dead?" He tested the words on his tounge, but he didn't like them.

He only got a nod for that question and thankfully he didn't need to ask for more information as the other one continued. 

"Magnussen. A blackmailer. He was my new case, my distraction and fake reason to be back to drugs after the wedding. I was using for a month when John found me accidently. I was high and he wasn't happy." At the sad chuckle that left the other's mouth Sherlock's stomach plummeted to the ground. "I wonder if it had been better if he didn't find me. He wouldn't have gotten killed by my slowness. I could have ended up like him. Dying in my own ditch somewhere while blissfully unaware of the world." He gestured at the junkie who -Sherlock deduced- overdosed before John got to him.

"Don't think I don't feel guilty. Don't you dare to think I don't care that I left him with her." He whispered and looked down. His eyes glazed over as got lost in his thoughts.

"The gun shot?" He asked, hoping to get more information of this woman.

"We broke into Magnussen's office where I found him kneeling on the ground with a gun at his head. Mary revealed herself and everything clicked into place. I tried to talk to her. I did, but she shot me. The last thing I remember is John at the doorway looking shocked then a gun shot and him falling. That's it then I woke up facing the others who were too late to alter the outcome. We were always late, until now." With that he looked at Sherlock who was staring ahead of himself, million thoughts running through his head. How could he have missed that John's wife was a trained killer?

"And you? What have you done?" He asked the dirty one.

"I faked my death. Committed suicide in front of John."

"Why would you do that? He has trust issues." 

He was rewarded with a cutting glare. "Don't you think I know that, idiot." He hissed. "Don't you think I would have chosen not to do it if it was possible. But this was the only route. Moriarty had snippers on John. He would have been killed if they hadn't thought I was out of the picture for good. So I jumped and then didn't contact him. I almost succeeded, but then I was captured in Serbia and tortured till death." He said and looked at the other two who were staring ahead of themselves, lost in their head. "At least I didn't need to be the best man on John's wedding."

Sherlock frowned at that. "How could you know that he would have gotten married?" 

A mad giggle left his mouth. "It's always the same. The only thing which changes is when do we screw up our last chance of happy ending with John. You are the first we find alive. That's way we kidnapped you. We can't let you mess it up too. We want peace."

"What do you want me to do? It's not like John Watson loves me back!" 

This time all three of them laughed. "This is the thing we always get wrong." Said the one who was shot. 

"You mean.." Sherlock trailed off and gulped.

"Of course we mean that he loves you, idiot. They all did." The junkie whispered the end.

"What now then?" He asked. "How could I possibly avoid your fate?"

"We don't actually know that." Said one of them. 

"What? You kidnap me so to warn me not to mess it up, but you don't actually know the answer."

"We never thought we would get this far!" The junkie snapped back.

"I think you should be the one to figure it out." Said the one who was shot. "You are the one who is in this universe and the one who thinks like he should in this time. All of us are damaged and different then the thing you need. Though we can tell about your possible future if that helps."

Sherlock considered this. Maybe if he listened to their stories he could find out what goes wrong all the time and he could avoid it now. 

Maybe he could save John and himself from the painful future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading it and sorry for any grammar mistakes. Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock discovers what happens when he is too slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the encouraging words:) They mean a lot.  
> Anyway here you go.

The rest of the building was simillar to the room he had awaken, except the walls were white and the whole thing felt cold. Anyone who stepped in would have felt that dead were living here.

The one with the gun shot wound lead him out while the junkie and the tortured one started to argue about something Sherlock didn't care about in that moment. Though he was suprised to find that they annoyed him. Also he didn't like the sound of his voice. Did he always sound like that? And was he also this annoying to the others'?

He was lead down a corridor and they stopped at the fourth door of the twelve. Twelfth ways that he and/or John died. It wasn't a comforting thought.

"All of us has our own room. Those are ours-" He pointed at the first three door. "you will probably find us there.  But I don't think you will need us. You can go in them, but try to be a little bit less of an idiot. Some of us are still shaken up. And be patient with Seventh, he is a bit slow." With that he turned around and went back to the room where he had awaken.

Sherlock turned back to the door and took a deep breath. Would this version of him be as broken as the others? Was he blamed for John's death too?

He tried to steady his hand as he opened the door. Inside there was a bed and the wall was pined with papers. Though the first thing Sherlock saw was the bloody hole in the back of his own head. From the angle it looked like he shot himself.

As he reluctantly closed the door his clone wipped around and Sherlock sucked in a quick breath. There was insanity in those eyes. Craziness he feared he would fall into one day. However that fear vanished completely when John came into his life, but it seemed in some other dimension something happened. His stomach filled with dread.

The eyes roamed over him and narrowed, then with a shrug turned back to the wall.

Sherlock obsereved the man. He thought that he looked relatively normal aside from the obvious. A bit tired but he was in fresh clothes and cleane shaven. His hair was normal too. It looked like he was dressed to a nother normal day. How could it have gone so wrong then?

"What happened to you?" He asked in a strong voice so he could feel somewhat in control and not like his reality is dissolving right in front of his eyes.

The other one looked at him again with a glare. "Isn't it obvious?" He sneered. 

Sherlock shook his head slightly and recieved an eyeroll.

"Trying to find out how could I have been faster so I could give the information to you. So you wouldn't screw it up."

"Why should I need to be faster?"

Suddenly he was pushed against the door by his throat. "So you arrive back in time. You reach him before he gives up!" He sneered into his face. They locked eyes and Sherlock saw the guilt, the hopelessness, the determination and grief behind the insanity.

"John? What happened to John?" He didn't want to know. God, he had far too much images planted in his mind just from the three stories he heard, but he had to know. He had to know so those images wouldn't become reality for him.

The other one laughed and pushed himself away from Sherlock. He paced while he spoke. "Jumped from the roof and managed to clear Moriarty's network off the surface of the earth in two years. I cleaned up in Mycroft's office, that's when he told me. I wasn't fast enough. If I had been cleverer, faster everything would have been alright. But I wasn't and John... John killed himself. Jumped from the same roof. Mycroft gave me his note then without a word I went back to 221B. Not home. It wasn't home without John."

His breathing was ragged and Sherlock already knew what had happened. He would do the same thing.

"I found his gun. Mycroft's men were always so stupid. I didn't give a chance for Mycroft to stop me. I shot myself right there in the sitting room."

Sherlock closed his eyes to prevent the tears. John was pushed to death by him. Well, not exactly by him, but still.

"For a while I wondered why he didn't use his gun." He looked back at him as he spoke again. "Mrs. Hudson didn't like it when I shot her wall." He shrugged. "I guess he didn't want to upset her."

Sherlock's eyes widened and without a word turned around and left the room. 

This was a nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and sorry for any grammar mistakes. Hope you liked it.


End file.
